Ferndean
by peaceandlove23
Summary: What about the firstborn of Edward and Jane Rochester?
1. Chapter 1

This tale starts, I think truly and as many do, with my parents. Though in reality this is more of my doings, but how else was I to be here if not for them? I also wish to lay a background so if you, my friend, find yourself at odds with my behavior, you may have a template to refer to.

And just in the name of respect I think it is important to lay a ground for my family. First I would like to say that of my parents, and I being Edward Roland Rochester II, you would not have found or known a more loving couple. To each other and their children, and in their own somewhat different ways, but the love was strong and there.

My Mother, Jane Rochester née Eyre, you should know, is over a decade younger than my Father. He was nearing forty when she was eighteen, though this made no difference in their union, I just said their love was great. But she, who I should add a orphan, had worked for sometime as a teacher before advertising her services, and was answered. Employed to be a governess to my _soeur adoptive_ Adéle, who I will speak more of later, she was then thrust into my father's path, and eventually they married.

I remember her with each fondness possible for a son, and my earliest memories of her were those of us playing in the garden, and her holding tightly to my hand and guiding my bare infant feet through the soft grass of summer. She'd show me how to make a couronne of flowers and I made many for her.

Gentle by nature, though stern when she had to be, and a natural teacher, she handled my education until I was ten years old, and then sent to school, for they wanted me to have friends my age. But she had shown me how to sketch, and herself had many books filled with renderings of her children, husband, and many other things. Father had always remarked I inherited her artistic eye.

And before I speak of Dear Papa, I wish, my Friend, to say some of my siblings. I have spoken of Adéle, and I regard her to be as much of my _soeur_ as my birth sister. Though in school by the time I came along she would spend her holidays with us, and I recall how she'd lift me by my arms and spin me about. She also helped me learn French, with Mother, and would help me to steal sweets from the kitchen.

She was adopted by Father some time before he met Mama, as I mentioned Mama was her governess. It was a long time before I was aware completely of her origins, and for most of my life I only knew she was native to France, which is where she now resides married, happy, and writing often.

Now, concerning those who come of Mama as I, there is Leland and Helen-Marie, who came to their first breath when I was eight years old, and five years after there came Branwell. I had always gotten along well with them, having the usual trivial disputes among siblings , I often found myself confused and annoyed by how pouty the twins could be and how difficult Branwell was at times. They butted heads with each other more than with me, often, but I had managed to find ways to calm them and avoid confrontation with them.

Like I said we got along, and they'd follow me to hell and back if it were possible. When I first came home from school I was tackled by the twins and told of how they would tottle into my room and wail when they saw it vacant.

Once they had learned to write I received more letters from them then from Mama and Papa. When with me they made effort to be still, in contrast to their own high-strung and moody natures. Papa often, and still does, conclude I also inherited Mother's mildness, while he had given my brothers and sister his own passion.

And now to my Dear Papa, who I was christened after. Do not think harshly of him, when I say I think he had never much enjoyed a child's company. I have said before he was loving to Mama and us but in his own way. Still he never had much patience or understanding of a child's prattle or fancies, and I remember when I was younger he often sent me Mother's way when I brought him the latest cookings of a child's foolishness, and with my youngers I remember him being just as awkward.

Perhaps the most apparent difference between him and Mama, since she had been a teacher years before my birth, she had a natural nurturing spirit, the kind that is made for mothers and caretakers. Father I don't think ever fancied the idea of parenthood, because he never cared for a child's company, and must have known the irony when he went on to have five, if you counted Adéle.

But this is not to say he was cold to us, for I had said he was and still is loving, but not as enthusiastically jolly as Mama was at times. But he smiled and laughed and teased many times, and had his bouts of sudden playfulness. I have a memory of when I was six years old, and awakened by him falling upon me in bed one summer morning, and making pretended lion noises to my delight as we wrestled. It seemed like ages until Mama heard our commotion and was beside herself when she saw Father's unexpected gaiety.

These sudden bursts did not come often, but they were warm and a delight when there. Mother would always remind us that it is a miracle Papa found the bed anyway. For you see some weeks before his marriage to Mama he was blinded, though for some time the details of how this came about were kept a secret from me, but by the time of my birth he could see out of one eye, and see my infant face with the same brilliant dark eyes Mother told me he once had. Also by this time he could move about on his own, and by the time I was seven he was able to take me on small fishing expeditions. Though he had to employ teachers for me to shoot, ride, and box, and fence (for until I was sixteen I was a small for my age, thin for my age, fragile looking thing, and no doubt he knew this was a target for bullies), and saw to it I knew how to be strong in my speech and intellect.

As I grew we conversed more easily and he made me read out loud to improve my voice and vernacular whenever the chance came, and I remember Mama playing many times while I repeated the solfége after him. Indeed this combined with Mother's instruction, by the time I was sent off to Kempton School for Boys, I already knew how to read, write, do maths beyond my years, speak French, shoot, ride, and box, and was already well in public speaking.

But I digress, and just mean to say, though Papa was not as jolly and playful as Mother in my childhood, he was very loving in his own right, and as much as he could be considering his blindness.

And so, my friend, you now have an idea of my background, and I thank you for being patient. But on to what I originally purposed this pen to record.

* * *

It happened upon my journey home, I was eighteen and had finished my education at Kempton School. It was summertime and my eyes were half closed, but not in sleepiness.

Rather I had a dilemma, and was brooding over how it was my own doing. The next step in my education was thought by my dear parents to be university, and they thought so by statements made when I was eleven. Statements I made because I really didn't care to think too far ahead and I only repeated what the other boys were saying.

And it had went from that to me specifying the medical field for study, but also that was a repeat of a boy at school. In all truth I wasn't sure what to make of things that far in the future but decided I would someday know, and until then I would repeat the same. University and a medical focus.

And this repetition continued for eight years, whenever I was asked.

But now that I was of age to do so, I faced the same uncertainty of boyhood. I had no trouble with school, and did not mind the idea of going on with what I had said many a times, but the idea was not a particularly fond one. Was I to be a doctor or a field labourer it would not much matter to me. Because neither was a particular desire of mine.

I did not know what I wanted to do with myself other than to do something. But now I had reached that stage of life and found I had waited too long to decide. As far as Mama and Papa we concerned I had always wanted to be a medical man, never changing or wavering as the other boys. Because I was only repeating what I had heard from them. And now going home, I did not know what I wanted or what university to name as place to study. I was lost and fearful to tell them I was so.

They had put time and money into assuring I had opportunity. A week before I received a letter, dictated by Father and written by Mama, that assured me steps have been taken finances secured, and places ready, and all I had to do was name what place was to my liking, the rest cared for.

And that day I was brooding over how I could not enjoy the extreme kindness of my parents and that I could not tell them I have been lying these past eight years about my choice of direction in life.

"Selfish sod." I thought. "Did this to yourself, and now you can't back out of it."

There were many other miserable thoughts in my mind, when the carriage came to a halt and I heard Joseph yell unintelligible things. In one movement I had opened the door, and jumped out to see the matter. And a matter it was.

Joseph was still yelling at her, and I could only stare. Perhaps the so called artistic eye overtook my judgements and rendered my in a hypnosis of her, because I did not feel the fury and anger as Joseph against her.

Because in our path, a young lady, perhaps my age or few years older, had run across. But what had caused the driver's anger and my flustered person, was her attire or lack of it.

Yes, my friend, she was as bare as she had been on her birth, her tanned body ran from the shouts with long curly red hair flying in her winded sprint. She had no shame in her movement, and ran as though any girl would have fully clothed, with no burden. We stayed until she was out of sight, and I was left with my emotions mixed, but I felt anything but anger.

Joseph bid me back into the carriage, less more inappropriately dressed young ladies come, and how he was so sorry I had seen such a unacceptable spectacle.

"What must this world be coming to I wonder? What sort of wildness! I am deeply sorry young Rochester! You must be so shaken!"

Indeed I was, shaken, flustered, abashed, and intrigued. I had questions for her, and yet...she had looked beautiful. Her naked body had been sculpted, her very air in those short moments I saw her seemed otherworldly. She was not a daughter of humans, no she was the lost fairy child, she was the nymph of the land. She was free and beautiful.

And as we continued home, I forgot my misery, and thought myself, that I should like to find her again.

* * *

**NOTICE: I sincerely apologize for the many spelling mistakes before. I can only say that my PC was acting up and I had to use my phone, but I know there should be no excuse for that many errors, and I thank Bonbonnett for pointing the embarrassment out to me.**

**If it happens again please do no hesitant to tell me**.


	2. Chapter 2

Joseph had hurried home, which I suppose I should give some description. Ferndean Manor, a moderately sized manor house nestled deep in a patch of a large wood. What I know of the manor house itself, Father had only said it had been purchased for sake of game covers or so by my late grandfather, and confirmed that since his father was unable to find a tenant, the house had been empty until he and Mama took residence.

By the time I had arrived, Ferndean was already restored and ready for the sound of a family, and the wood surrounding it had served as another playground in my younger seasons.

And it was to this house I came to still in thought of the nymph, and indeed I could still hear Joseph grumbling.

Stepping out of the carriage I saw Mama coming toward me. I now had to bend slightly to kiss her, I had grown as tall as Papa.

"Hello Mama." I said.

"Eddie." She replied, embracing me. Joseph was no longer muttering to himself, but it was obvious by his look something had greatly angered him. His face red, eyebrows turned down, and though he bid her good day it was clear he was disturbed.

"What did you do to annoy Joseph?" She asked, as we went inside.

"It was nothing of my doing, and anyway I think he may present you and Papa with the details later today."

"I'd like to hear them from you."

I stalled in answering, "The incident is a bit delicate, it might be best if he told you." Artistic eye or not, I had sense enough to know what Mama would and wouldn't want to hear from my lips.

"Too delicate to tell your Mama?" She asked, "Whatever could have happened?" she teased, and said all the same if Joseph did indeed tell her of what had happened to upset him, she would still like I to hear my version.

I changed the subject and asked where the little ones were.

"They have been invited to spend some time with friends, and will be here a fortnight from tomorrow."

'So they had already made friends.'I thought, out loud I said, "And little Branwell?"

"He is sleeping, in the nursery. So for sometime we shall have some quiet."

We found father in the front room.

"Is that Jane?" He said once we entered, though he could see both of us.

"It is Jane, and your grown up son." She answered, as Papa rose, his left arm against his chest. Oh! Did I forget to mention? He had also lost his left hand, by the same incident that had stolen away his sight (I mentioned the fishing trips without specifying whether he held a pole of his own, my apologies friend).

"Children never grow up, as far as their parents are concerned. Though I do think you have grown some inches, Eddie." He said, embracing me. Remember, friend he had regained some sight, and hypocritical it may seem when I refer to his blindness, again I apologize.

When we pulled apart, Papa continued,"And anyway, eighteen is still a child."

He sat in an armchair,"Branwell spends his time now running from me to your Mama, and whining and wondering when everyone will come home."

"He has lost two playmates." Mama reminded from her place.

"So is the curse of the youngest child." Father answered,"Well he will be glad to see you."

Branwell had a just turned six at this time, (and the twins would soon be eleven) and already he could read and write better than most children his age, but I remember Mama often telling me he was the most difficult to hold still long enough to teach anything.

But, as I told them, it must be better than him and Leland fighting over toy soldiers or battling Helen-Marie over who gets to hold the dog's puppies next.

"Well the puppies have already found new homes," Mama said with humor, "but yes, I think so."

"We traded having two children who nearly tear a puppy in half for one child that forgets to feed his own."

"He did remember to feed the poor thing this morning." Mother reminded.

"Because I had threatened to give it to Joseph's little boy if he didn't."

"Sometimes a child needs a good threat." I added humorously.

"Not that you ever did, my boy." Father offered. He stared at me for a moment and said, "No you were a calm and cooperative boy. Though I wonder if that temperament carried on out of childhood."

"We've not argued yet." I reminded.

"No, and that itself is troubling. When I was your age it seemed I disagreed on most things with my Father."

"How far did it go?"

He seemed to stare off into space and lands beyond, and looked almost upset. He answered cryptically,"Far enough."

"Well the next time you feel inclined to rile me I'll try to oblige." I added, "After all most men are not given permission to spare with their Papa."

Father just smiled at me, and said once of these days we would have a good argument, with a share of screaming and other things. "You have the heart of your Mother, but even she couldn't help to try to rebuke me. And she was eighteen as well."

I saw dear Mother smirk from her seat across from us. "It was not so much rebuking as it was I answering truthfully. We had different mind sets then Dear."

Father rose, and kissed her head,"And we still do Dear. And no doubt Eddie and I do as well. Why else would we get along so calmly?"

"I never had been for confrontation." I added.

"Don't give yourself too much credit, Eddie. I remember attending a party by some old associates, who had their children with them. At one point there was a high-pitched screech and someone crying, "Mama!Mama!", and when the adults had found the source there was you on top a boy nearly twice your size." Papa looked to Mama, and asked how old I was when such happened.

"No older than seven, if I remember correctly."

"Seven years old, as big as a five year old, and yet you went after a boy of twelve!"

"Papa, I can barely remember what that scuffle was about."

"And the boy had been so taken off guard he couldn't to relate the details as well. But there his a fury in you, Eddie." Father paused, "Your siblings have it, and display it, more frequently, though they're still children. But still, whether with your Mama's mildness or no, you are my child as well."

Before I could defend myself, Nancy came in, and told us Joseph wanted to speak to the Master. Mother and I shared a look and Father asked if Joseph had said what it concerned, and when Nancy told him Joseph said only that it concerned an incident on the journey home, Father turned to me and said,"There was a disturbance on your journey home?"

His voice held what I feared was irritation and anger. His expression did not hold evidence of any such thing, but it was how he turned in my direction, and how he waited for my answer, his mouth a straight line, and brows unexpressed.

I had come into his wrath barely a handful of times, and now I felt several years younger muttering,"It was a bit,well, uh..."

"Speak up." He bid me.

I replied, "Yes, there was a bit of an incident, but I thought it best if you heard it from Joseph."

"Why?" He asked.

"The incident is rather...delicate." I said, looking more at Mama than him.

"You seem to forget I do have some sight, not as clear as your own, but clear enough that I can see how you turned when I asked!" Father paused, "You paled and now you are a shade red, I wonder what happened?"

I said nothing, and looked away.

"I also saw how you stared at your Mama." This was said more lightly as he stood behind Mother and grasped her shoulder with his right hand, "Where are you going? Sit back down and wait, yes, sit. Dear me how you've turned just now, little boy!"

I fell back in the chair as he told Nancy to let the man in. My opinions on what we had seen did not waver, but I knew they would not be shared, and if asked I could not tell them without some reproach or dismissal. Which is why I had wanted to leave before Joseph entered. But I stayed and decided to keep my thoughts to myself.

So Joseph came in and upon seeing me he fell into several apologies and swore up and down how he regretted the whole thing and begged to not be dismissed.

"Joseph, neither of us have the slightest idea of what you mean!" Father said annoyed.

"He hasn't-Oh, of course he wouldn't the poor boy. It must have been a great shock to him! I really would have kept him from-but he was out the carriage before I could tell him not to worry-"

"Pray tell us what it was that happened."

"He looked at Mother, hesitant, but Father commanded him to go on.

"We had just come upon the woods and, well I'm sorry to say so in front of the Mistress, but-"

And he went into a narrative that subtly described what had transpired. The man painted a picture in which I had been greatly traumatized, that my mind had been so put off I was reduced to a little fragile puddle.

To remind you friend, though I was not in the same mindset of Joseph, I am not so progressive to approve of it. I would have much preferred to have seen those parts of a woman on my wedding night. But I did not condemn her either, mainly because of my curiosity. What was she doing? Why, to what end? Furthermore I was not disturbed, in anyway.

Joseph finished, and was assured no harm had been done, and then dismissed.

We were all silent, not moving. Whether it was the awkward subject or the idea there was a stark woman somewhere running wild in the wood, I'm not sure. I waited for one of them to exclaim disgust or outrage. But we were all silent.

Until Mother rose, only saying she will go and seek Branwell, an unreadable expression on her face as she left. Perhaps I could assume she would not want to hear my recollection of things after all.

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**Hopefully this was readable ;) (Seriously I was sure to steal my friend's tablet, as my computer is still giving me trouble. ;/)**

**Thanks to anyone who has read/commented/what have you. ^^**


	3. Chapter 3

Father said nothing for some moments. Finally he spoke to me, "Delicate indeed. Eddie , see why you did not wish to tell me or your Mama personally."

I smiled faintly. When he didn't continue, I said, hoping it would sound humorous, "I don't suppose you or Mama have seen a new family in town? With a red-haired daughter?"

"Your Mother would know better than I. She goes there more often."

"Ah."

We we're quiet again. I wished Mama and Branwell to return. I didn't know what to say; what to offer by ways of comfort, to show Papa he need not think me upset, or what else.

And I wanted to do away with this first-hand (and perhaps second-hand as well) discomfort. I had seen neither of them act as so, and frankly it made me uneasy, and I could only imagine their feelings.

"Well, Papa, I think I can safely promise you to never defile your name in such a way." I said, trying to make the bitter-sarcasm light, "No, I will go to London and marry a poor downtrodden girl when I want to bring shame upon your name and Ferdean. Much more dignified..."

I could feel him turn sharply, and matched his look. We stared at one another for a moment, before he began to snicker and then fall into a hearty laughter, that was rare for its volume.

Branwell then came running in, and halted when he saw Papa still grinning. Mother came in behind Branwell, a bit breathless.

"Is it not sad Darling, when my merriment causes confusion among my children? Come here Branwell!" Farther laughed, and Branwell did. He wrapped his arms around Papa and then asked what was the surprise his Mama told him about.

"Didn't you see? You were too distracted! Look over there." Papa pointed in my direction, and Branwell followed. He looked at me in shock and then ran into me. He hugged and kissed me, and began telling me he was so happy I was home and that Leland and Helen weren't going to come home for some time.

So I kept him entertained, the rest of the afternoon, through dinner, and for the rest of the evening. It was true, Branwell had been very lonely. Out of us all he was the most social, and finding himself suddenly alone, save when they went to town, must have been torture. And even in the nearby town there we're not many children.

Eventually he calmed down and settled for just leaning on me shoulder. He was a bit big for his age, tall and always tried to speak as he heard the adults around him. Adopting a sweet disposition when in the mist of those he loved, as any child, and even with the twins, so long as they treated him fairly, he was loving.

But still he was temperamental, and at the age in these recollections of mine, he was still learning self-control. Though he and the twins we're never the children you saw in town that wailed and bellowed when their Mama refused to buy the plaything they wanted. But rather the kind that became passionate about smaller things, and wise enough to only be so when those his own age and a bit older were to blame. He had learned, through trial, that the grown ups were set above him, and his parents even more so.

But now he was calm and stared into space as us elder ones spoke. I asked Mother if she had heard of a new family, to which she said she had not.

Our conversations turned to more pleasant matters, and as it did, my little brother's head began to weigh more and more heavily on me, eventually I had him lay his head in my lap.

Moments later I could hear a slow quiet breathing from him, and his eyes fluttered closed. His little had clutching my arm, and his face turned toward mine-one could forget his stubbornness so easily! So sweet he looked.

Mama gently roused him, saying it was time for little boys to be put to bed. He sat up and gave me a last kiss, and then went to Papa to do the same. He then staggered as a small drunkard and went to bed, led by Mama.

"Branwell seems a bit different." I observed.

"I think this new solitude is good for him. He will have a new appreciation for Leland and Helen, and hopefully they will for him. He will also learn that being left to his own devices is not such a terrible fate." Father said rising. He added coming to my side, "I think I will retire as well."

"Goodnight Father." I said, also rising.

He patted my shoulder, and then left.

'Perhaps Mama also retired for the night.' I thought. Replaying Joseph's account of this past afternoon. He made it sound as though I was horribly scarred by what I saw, and that there was severe damage to my mind by seeing the girl.

Again, I was not disturbed. At the moment I had been caught off my guard, yes, and perhaps I had been disturbed, then. But now, I could look back calmly, and no. I not.

I was curious. What was her name, and who was she? Already I decided to go out in the early morning and see if I could find her.

* * *

I rose early, carrying only matches on my person, and with me a spare frock coat, if she should be in the same state as the day before. I was naïve, reader, but not too think I'd recognize her completely. I knew I only had her copper heard to go by, but it was such a shade of red that I concluded it could not be so common, and red hair itself was a singular beauty.

But still, my hopes we're not very high that I should find her crossing my path again, but what an air she left on me! Her mystery and the plain oddness-understatement of course-of the her act, it intrigued me. So much I wanted to if anything, try. As small and unlikely it seemed, I wanted to try.

So that I set out, into the woodlands surrounding Ferdean. They we're thick and large but hardly so evil-looking. A path to travel by that went through the trees a ways back, that nearly gave the impression you entered another realm, apart from our earth, by the time you reached Ferdean.

You can imagine that this did not offer much for neighbors, though I knew of another moderately sized house some ways from our own. One spring holiday, Adéle and I had wandered too far into them, and came upon it. We saw people going inside, and there were children playing on the front steps, but they looked unfriendly and had thrown nasty looks when they saw us. We then fled and our feet brought us back home.

But we had been never formally introduced to them, and every so often I would decide to go that same way and see if it was still inhabited, just to prove that there was life in the large wood beyond my home.

My sense of direction has sharpened since, and I set out on the path leading from Ferndean.

I walked, looking ahead, and wondering if I could see the spot where we saw her. It was dawn, and even with the inkling of the sun's rays the wood was dark, and I expected to turn at any moment and see a little girl with a red hood and basket skip by.

'By noon it won't be dark at all.' And it was not so completely black, I could see well in front of me, and there was no trouble making out shapes and objects. Besides within the same hour things had begun to lighten, and I had found the spot where Joseph had stopped us.

I then dove off in the direction she had gone, stepping into the lush summer brush and between the pines.

And another hour passed, I looked over my shoulder every few seconds to remember where I've been. The wood became lighter and lighter and eventually sunlight shined on nearly every blade of grass, and, twig, and branch.

I was debating whether to go home, when up ahead I saw movement of some kind. Too far for me to know exactly what was moving, but I saw the discoloration of the bark and leaves shift, and something moved. So I followed.

Soon I could hear someone else walking close by, and turned my head in time to see a young woman, a dark green shawl wrapped over an equally green dress. She had long red hair. The same fire like hue I recalled.

Though, again, her back was turned to me, her face hidden from my sight, and I was determined to learn her name.

Whether she was stark or clothed in the color of the woodland leaves, I felt I could not turn from her. I couldn't leave her. And so I went after her, at a distance until she stopped by tree, and leaned upon it.

I walked closer still, until I was but seven steps from her. I thought she might have heard me, but the red hair didn't turn my way, and she stayed still.

I came closer and said, "Excuse me. Miss?"

And then she turned. Her face had been kissed by the sun, and she looked at me inquiringly.

"Yes?" She responded. She was American.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you sir." She said, and turned back around. I stood a few more moments before speaking to her again.

"Miss..."

"Yes?" She asked, turning to face me.

"Are you cold?"

"No Sir. But thank you." This time she didn't turn away, she smiled at me.

"Are you warm then? It's the beginning of summer and you have a shawl."

"I like the shawl, and no I am not warm. Beside it is still a bit cold in the mornings." She replied. I didn't think so, but since she was not native to this country, I assumed she was use to warmer temperatures, knowing what little I did of some American climates, so I agreed with her.

"How you look at me Sir." She remarked, "We have not met, have we?"

We haven't, not formally at least, but before I could answer she continued, "I have not been here a long time, and I am still meeting new people everyday." Her eyes suddenly grew wide, and she exclaimed, "And it seems I've forgotten my manners!", here she curtsied, "My name is Alice Foster."

"Edward Rochester." I said, bowing myself. "And, no we haven't met. Well not formally."

"You've heard of me?" She asked, confused tone in her voice.

"No, but I've seen you. In these woods."

"Oh, yes? Its odd then, I haven't seen you."

"Well I mean, I caught sight of you yesterday, your back was towards me."

She considered this a moment. "Are you sure? I was not outside at all yesterday."

"Do you have a sister then?"

"No, I am an only child."

'I'm sure I saw you.' I thought, 'It was you.'

"Or perhaps it was me. Forgive me, but as I said I have not been here long and everyday my cousins have something planned for me. It's a bit difficult to keep track of all the things that happen, and that I do. Perhaps it was me then."

"I'm sure it was."

"How was I attired, then?"

My blood ran cold, Ms. Foster acted as though she hadn't...

"You...well you see that...you were a bit..." I tried to be delicate, but she seemed even more confused by my stammer. "You were attired, most oddly."

"Oddly?"

"Yes, most...most indecently..." I whispered. If she asked, I knew there was a small chance, I had found the wrong woman. I doubted it, but she seemed to not understand what I meant.

"Indecent! What do you mean, Sir?" She exclaimed. I knew this might have happened, and there was no completely tactful way to ask. I was sure it was her that had dashed in front of Joseph and I. Why then was she acting so oblivious?

"I mean, Miss, that you were not...attired at all."

She became quiet, and said nothing for a moment, her eyes staying on mine. I inwardly cursed myself, thinking I must have embarrassed her, and it could have been avoided if I had left it alone. But I knew there was no way to confront the incident without one or the other party feeling uncomfortable, and I also knew if not today then sometime I would go looking for her.

And how could you do such a thing without predicting one person or another searching to face you about it? Ms. Foster must have known someone would come for her, and she should have been thankful I wasn't an authority of some sort. Or so was my reasoning at the time.

And while I thought all this, Ms. Foster had been in a thought herself, from her expression. She said finally, in a serious tone, "Will you come to this spot tomorrow?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I will, and I wish you would." She said," Will you?"

"I will."

"Then I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Rochester." And with that she left.

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**Lots of thanks and love to Bonbonnett and ebrillblaiddes, and anyone else who reads and reviews-you are all appreciated :)**


	4. Chapter 4

** Thank you to_ Bonbonnett, ebrillblaiddes, Tkzimmerman28, and Dkoh75 it means a lot :) 3_**

* * *

I watched her leave. At her word 'cousins', the Manor House my _soeur_ and I stumbled upon, and the remembrance of the three unfriendly children, came to mind.

I did not know the Manor's name, or how far their property stretched and met Ferndean's own. These woods were so large and thick I had never considered the possibility of trespassing. The idea I might be doing so at the moment, made me quickly retreat home.

Some seconds after I said out loud to myself, "She is either mad, or lying...Or I have actually found the wrong woman."

Though I doubted the last possibility. As for the other two, both seemed very likely. Madness of a kind for her seemingly not recalling her actions and being shocked at my account of them, but I was certain it was Ms. Foster. Which also made the idea she was fibbing possible.

I could perhaps understand her better tomorrow.

It was not until I came to Ferndean, and saw the carriage was gone, I realised it was well past mid-morning. Mama and Papa would have wondered about me, and Branwell. But since the carriage was absent I hoped they all had a sudden whim to go to town, and hopefully this whim came early in the morning.

I was half right. Nancy caught me at the door and said the Master would want me in the library. I asked to my brother and Mother, to which she said they had both gone into town an hour since.

Father was lounging on the window seat and facing outside, he asked, when I entered, "I hope you will now not become so inconsiderate to your poor parents, and decide to not leave so much as a scrap of paper to assure us you have not been kidnapped, killed...or what else."

He was sarcastic, but at the moment I missed the humor in his voice and began apologizing and explaining a sudden urge to walk around and alone came to me and I had not realised how much time had gone by. Papa finally grabbed hold of my ear and the automatic reaction of me silencing responded.

He let go, (if this was a disciplinary act he would have twisted it) and said, "You should hear yourself! Missed the mirth in my voice?" He said this with the hints of a paternal snicker in his voice.

"Your Mama concluded as much and was not at all in a state. Branwell was the most worried, but he calmed after some time. Though next time you have a wanderlust about you, I do suggest you leave word with someone in someway."

"Yes, Sir."

He sat back down and I began to scan the familiar shelves. Many of the volumes were familiar, but the library was always growing and being added to. From the childish romances Mama read to me and my siblings years before, to the more modern musing of people far and away from Ferndean.

I noticed, slightly to my dismay, there we're a few new medical manuals and journals that couldn't have been added longer than a month binding still very new, and the pages sharp enough to cut flesh, as new volumes are.

They had been handled and placed with care and seemed expensive, in the name of their intended reader to devour them with relish and to find them useful. I remembered my selfishness, because the sight of them evoked no feelings of such appreciation. The miserable thoughts of yesterday had been driven from my mind, and indeed neither Mama or Papa had referenced the letter.

I knew myself to be spoilt, more definitions than one of the word. But it was that moment I decided I had better become useful, and put what they had invested to good use. I knew most my age and younger would pray for the window.

'It would be wicked to not go through it.' I thought to myself.

"Eddie, when you find yourself something to be whisked away to lands far with...I would not think it a burden if you had a whim to take your Papa with you." He said quietly, from the window.

We were both somewhere in the Arctic, and observing the impending battle of the ice maidens and their own adversaries of such, when I heard the carriage coming and Papa told me to mark the page. Moments later Branwell came into the library, and began to ask me questions.

Mama came after him, and I kissed an apology to her, supplying a calmer explanation, and her feelings were not hurt.

"Did you see any red-haired women, while you trampled about?" She asked, and this time I heard the teasing tone, but I was taken aback by her calmness about the thing and I could not answer. The face of Alice Foster flashed through my memory.

Mama then patted my arm and assured she was only teasing, and said the joke was decidedly inappropriate. Despite her, as Papa said "nunnette upbringing", she could not will herself to become ill with shock and lay in her bed for week tormented with knowing her young son saw such a spectacle.

"If you did Jane, then I would have fallen over in shock as well, and given my age I May not revive as you." Papa said from his place at the window.

"You are not so old my Dear."

"But I don't have the woodland sprites to refresh my soul as you. So no Dear Jane I would perish."

We had forgotten Branwell was in the room, though I think he had forgotten us by the dreamy way he inspected the book I had been reading from. He gently returned it to the table and proclaimed he wanted to go to the nursery, and wanted me to come with him.

Deciding that I owed Branwell for all his worry this morning and we were both dismissed.

* * *

After their sons had left Rochester said to his Dear Jane, "And you, my Darling? Did you see any red-headed women in the town?"

"No, but I did hear of one. The Almore manor house, the family Who own it plan to make their residence there permanent, and have brought two nieces with them. The elder has very copper hair, if gossip by Ms. Amanda is belived to be true."

"What would old Ms. Amanda be concerned for the hue of a young lady's hair?" He asked, coming toward Mrs. Rochester. He put his well hand on her shoulder, and she put her's upon his.

"That is the fate of womenkind my dear." She replied, "Despite how we wish to fight it and pray that we do not fall down the same hill of those before us we do." Jane replied with a light grin.

"Am I to see you suffer the same? Will you start to find the need to tell me that Nancy spends too much time in town, or that you saw Joseph with a questionable air of the drink upon him?"

"Nancy has told me she does not like the company found in the town, and the day Joseph comes across a drop of alcohol, I will tell you it can not be Joseph." She replied with the same ccondensation.

"Then what will my Dear Jane do?"

"She will wither away."

* * *

**This had to be cut in half from a longer chapter but it will be up soon. Many thanks and a lot of love to anyone taking time out of their day to read this :)**

**How did you like the split from Eddie's narrative? Tell me!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Lots of love and thanks to those following and reading :)**

* * *

The next day I set out as I had before, sure to leave word with Nancy.

I had memorized the way and look of the clearing and there she sat. Today she wore a plain thing of purple, and the green shawl was still wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair tied in a complex fashion, and she sat erect upon a large rock that rested near the same tree she had leaned upon the day before.

She did not turn when I approached her. I spoke and she jumped.

"Do all men come upon their prey like this?" She asked, standing, her face open and friendly. "Mr. Rochester?"

"Ms. Foster." I answered.

"Well I've managed to remember your name at least." She said happily, and added, "I hope I am decent enough. When my cousin, Lisa, heard I found a young man wandering the woods she had a fit."

"Is that so?"

"She said I was too informal, and my hair had not been neat enough and, several other things. So she took extra time this morning to see that I was presentable."

'She must have.' I thought, out loud I asked "You live with your cousins, then?"

"Yes."

"I think I've seen their manor-house before, it is some way from here?"

"Yes, not so far." Ms. Foster answered, "Almore it's called."

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been here?" I added quickly, "I've only caught a glimpse of who might be your cousins, now and then. And it was not til two days ago I saw you."

"I think before my Uncle Foster and his family only came here for a week or so in the spring, but one month ago they had decided to stay here permanently. If you meant how long have I been in England, then I should say three months past." She answered.

The more she spoke the more I could recognize the American, but she must have adapted to our English way of speaking. Her choice of words, some were American terms (the few I recognized) but many were decidedly English.

I asked if her parents lived with her and her Uncle.

"No, both my parents are dead, my Uncle is the brother of my late Father and when he heard his brother died, leaving a young daughter he immediately sent for me."

"Are you happy with them?"

"Yes, I get along well with them and they are kind to me." She looked at me for a moment. "Tell me about yourself. Where do you live?"

"A manor house called Ferdean. And I have three little siblings; two brothers and one sister."

"I suppose you had the common English upbringing? Nanny or a Governess?" She asked.

"My Mother served as both, until I went to school."

She looked surprised, or something close to it. "That's not common for your society is it?"

My society? I thought that was an odd choice of words, American or English. Her matter-of-fact tone, was not even sharp. Not critical, just pure inquiry. I wondered what she meant by it, if she had meant anything.

So then why had I been so quick to answer my Mother had been a governess for some years before meeting my Father and I should think both would have disliked a nurse.

"Still though, you went to a proper English school? Where the boys had little top hats?"

"Kempton had boys from all over the country, and from all walks of life. They could not afford top hats." I felt something in me pricked at, but I did not know what. I had been gently taunted before, and surely that is what Ms. Foster was doing. No malice in her tone or evil in her face that I could see.

But if there was no cruelty in her speech why was it unpleasant to hear? She must have saw all this in my expression, and apologized directly after my response.

"Forgive me, Mr. Rochester. What I know of things here I know from my cousins, and even so I'm usually not so tactless." She explained.

"There is nothing to forgive. You just told me all you know is from your cousins. I suppose they must be very wealthy then, to attended a school with top hats?"

"No, they all had a governess, the little one still does, and a nurse." Ms. Foster answered. "What I said about schools I assumed from popular literature they've shown me."

"Where have they lived when not here?"

"I don't know, a city, a long way from here. But we stayed in London for some time when I came from the "great sea voyage". And now we have settled here." She answered.

My curiosity of what she had done when I first saw her, and why, had not diminished, and in fact it built each second. She was gentle and polite, she was pleasant to speak to if not a bit obscure in her ways.

But how could such a girl, do something such as that? Something so scandalous and considered by many (certainly by Joseph) amoral? When her speech and countenance suggested nothing of the kind?

"I think I must leave you alone now." She said making to leave.

"But...Ms. Foster?"

"Mr. Rochester?"

"What we're you doing, the day before yesterday?" I asked hoping she saw I was trying to be careful. But, as yesterday, she told me to come to this spot tomorrow, and then bid me goodbye.

Pleasant or not, I was left feeling annoyed. Understanding why she would want to avoid the subject, but still annoyed.

But I then considered, who was I to ask? Better I than a man of the law, however her confiding in someone she had only met the day before was foolish, and perhaps as infelicitous as her stark sprint.

* * *

The ritual continued for four more days and always the same. We would barely speak for more than ten minutes, and the conversation would turn more toward my direction than her own. Ms. Foster would then tell me she must be going, and ask if I would return the next day.

Frustratingly I could never turn our conversation the particular way I wanted it to go, and still, I wanted to be delicate and careful. But each meeting left me slightly vexed at the lack of progress, and rendered Alice Foster more mysterious to me.

She was always there before me, and never seemed to hear me come. 'Could she be so wrapped and tucked inside herself?' I wondered. Had I a throng of horsemen and trumpets, she would have sat as still.

But I even though I did not come close to the answers I wanted, I did not dread these meetings. I said before she was pleasant and polite, if not a little obscure. She was easy to talk to, and her brow seemed plagued with a forever content air.

And I was not entirely fruitless. I learned her father was from this country, having immigrated to America as a young man, and took the youngest Foster with him, her "other Aunt". He had run some sort of small publishing firm that had managed to keep his family fed and clothed. But his death left a very small financial inheritance, and Ms. Foster never told me of what became of the firm. She told me about her younger cousin, who had also been orphaned and demanded to accompany her to England.

She told me about how her Father kept correspondence with his brother, and she had written to her "English cousins" before, but it was not til she came to England she saw them.

Ms. Foster had no trouble being so candid with me, where her family and home land was concerned. But whenever I tried to question her about that day, she pursed her lips, and looked away. And then ask me something as though she hadn't heard me. I decided it was best not to push the matter.

Six times I had left very early and returned at close to mid-day. Mama and Papa said nothing about this, but I knew they wondered. Neither asked where I went, and thankfully Branwell had not decided to follow me. I wished they would inquire where I went, or if Papa raised his voice and demanded to know what was my business leaving so early. I also considered it might as well be I tell them, after all it is not as if I was being so deviant.

Just so, my throat coiled up and closed when I thought of it.

Also, my friend, I did not know what my youngest brother was doing, but I suspected in my absence he was beginning to try Papa's patience more so than usual. All the more reason for him the demand where I was in the morning! If he wished me to occupy Branwell, then why not tell me?

Mama, who never directly asked, would look at me, and I saw her curiosity. Her eyes showed it, as they also showed what I feared was concern. I thought I imagined it, but when I came home, and she smiled in greeting or touched my shoulder, it was clear how her brow trembled-for only a moment. Whenever I went two look for Branwell (who was also fond of the wood, but not enough to travel too far) I caught her staring out the window as I strolled upon the fringe of trees.

She once asked if I had any plans for the next day, without looking at me, and I could hear her voice choose the words with care. She had done so when us children had committed a small crime, and she knew. I told her I did not, and she asked with the same soft fabian policy "Are you certain?"

She then looked at me, her eyes steady, a little expectant. I tried to match her, but was unable to. I nodded slowly, and still she...kept her gaze. Not demanding, or stern. But as if she did not believe me.

"I might go for a walk in the morning."

"As you have been?"

"Yes M'am." I answered, nerves shaking and freezing all at once. Mama turned back to her sketchbook.

'Had I lied?' I wondered. Did she know? Was she disappointed, if she did know, that I had stayed silent? Her little figure on the sette, bent over her sketchbook revealed nothing. She did no tremble or shake and her lips were not pursed in anger. But I could feel her. Feel that I had hurt something, by that one, little lie. If it was a lie, opinions on that may vary, but it felt as though it was.

* * *

It was on the seventh day that I rose very early, determined to get to the clearing before her. The moon had not yet disappeared and I needed a light to see my way. I trampled the brush and twigs and grass, careful to not set the wood a-fire, and soon found myself there. The clearing abandoned and lonely, the stone vacant. I sat down, tired for the hour was still as sleeping one.

I looked into the dark woods, which were quiet with the exception of the usual inhabitants. An owl spoke up somewhere.

There was a small crunch of the grass. A twig broke close by but I saw nothing. It came agian.

'Is something moving?'

When I held the light up, and stretched out my arm, I saw a mass. Nearly as big as myself, and black, but it moved into the trees, outside the range of my fire.

I could not see what it was but it was there and had moved. There was silence, save for the owl, and I stood up. But nothing stirred more. A moment went by, and there was a 'sh-an-sh' nearby. I waved the lamp, but I appeared to be alone.

'Sh-an-shhh'

I stepped forward, my mind running through lists of creatures that could have decided to visit me.

'Sh-shhh-shhh-hhhh'

'The leaves? Is it climbing?' I wondered.

Playfully I called out "I am a young man! I do not have a red cap, or hood, or basket, and certainly no Grandmother!"

Perhaps out of place, but there was no answer, and I sat back down upon the stone. The owl had silenced and so had the visitor.

I fell asleep, and woke to Ms. Foster gently shaking my shoulder. The lamp had gone out, without setting the wood a blaze. I stood up quickly, fighting an urge to stretch, and looked round.

The sun had just begun to light the sky, and it was bright enough to see clearly. Ms. Foster regarded me with wide eyes and asked how long I had been there.

"Not long." I told her.

"Why?"

"I wanted to beat you here." I said bluntly.

"Is that the only reason?"

"I think" I added "my parents are starting to worry."

"You speak like we're doing something so bad!" She said, "If they worry tell them."

I noticed that she wore a dress as red as her hair, which was let down as it had been when I first found her here. The green shawl always around her shoulders, acted to separate the two hues.

"Does your cousin know you wear your hair down?" I asked, because these past days Ms. Foster had always kept her red locks up and knotted or tied.

"Yes, and her heart is breaking." Ms. Foster answered, "Also she wishes to meet you."

"So sudden?"

"She said she wishes to make the acquaintance of the young man who has decided to roam outside and acquaint himself with me."

'Her cousin seems meddlesome.' I thought, for no reason, out loud I said,"And when does she demand my company?"

"Cousin Lisa actually wanted me to try and persuade you today. And today indeed, you couldn't have eaten for how long you've been here. And you look tired as well." She observed, I didn't reply. "Why don't you follow me?"

We were not so far from this Almore house, and with ten minutes the pines and oaks cleared and I saw very same Manor house I knew. Somewhat larger than Ferndean and unlike it, Almore had a large iron gate before it, which was conveniently open and ready for us.

'Everyone must still be resting, surely.' I thought, as we crossed the gate.

The inside was not overly grand, but it was clear the Fosters of England we're not a modest name. The floor made of white marble, and a moderate black staircase sat almost directly in front of the main door. The walls had been painted a red color, the ceiling as well, which stretched high and a single chandelier hung above.

Ms. Foster directed me to the sitting room, which was red as well, and vacant.

"She's not here?" I asked, for whatever reason I assumed Lisa Foster would be about and waiting for us. When Alice Foster didn't answer, I turned and saw I had been abandoned. Gone to get the cousin, and trusting I wouldn't leave. Not that it crossed my mind to do so.

The room I had been left in was furnished more modestly than the main hall, but the feel of a refined taste still hung about and suggested itself in the decor. I stood still in the middle, then walked I about the room.

I did this for some minutes, until I heard another enter. But it wasn't Ms. Alice and Ms. Lisa. A man, older than me by five years at most, with a crown of red curls, and light eyes, tall as I. We stared at each other for a moment.

"Well," He said in a high-pitched voice, "like you said, you don't have a red cap or hood just a red jacket."

A chill ran through my spine. 'It was him?' I thought. "Excuse me, we have not bent, have we?"

"No, I'm Lucas Foster. "

* * *

**Thanks for reading :).**

** Maybe He'll start to piece it together after meeting the cousins? **


	6. Chapter 6

** It has been over a month since I have updated this, I've been extremely busy and to make up for it I had planned on this being a long chapter, but in the end I thought it better to split what was chapter six into three chapters, but I am in the middle of sprucing up seven & eight and they ****will hopefully be up sooner :/**

**Much love and thanks to all reading and my six(whoo!)followers! Means more than you know :) Apologies if this chapter seems off in places, and if it does let me know and I'll improve it!**

* * *

"You must be Edward Rochester?" He asked walking toward me.

"Yes." I answered as we shook hands.

"The second, no doubt. I've run into your Father before in town, and heard the local gossip, his name's come up. But Cousin Alice has told me about you. Lisa was telling me only yesterday that she hoped to make your acquaintance soon."

He passed me while talking, heading for a locked bookcase, and producing a key from his sleeve he unlocked it and began to pull out the volumes on the second shelf. When he finished Foster than pulled several large envelopes from the back.

I turned away and he said to me, "I'm not revealing where we keep our gold and silver, Rochester," while returning the books to their place, "these are only documents. Deed to Almore, and other like papers. My own Father is upstairs and he wanted me to fetch them."

He locked the case and gathered the envelopes, but stayed where he was. "The old man can wait a few more moments." He smiled, "I'd like to talk to you my young fellow."

'Young fellow? We are not that so much apart.'

"Alice told me you live in the Ferndean Manor."

"Yes."

He nodded and stared at me for a moment.

'He must have been the indistinguishable mass of darkness.' I thought, 'Those pale, long, and immaculate fingers, the same ones that had carried him to the trees.'

He quickly put his free hand in his jacket pocket (the other held on to the envelopes) and he smiled almost sheepishly, as though he knew my observation. I wanted to ask about what he had meant, spying on me as he had, but I refrained when the sound of two sets of footsteps came nearby.

"Good morning my Darlings! I've had a word with Mr. Rochester, Allie Dear. I must say I like the young man. Well I must go to Father, I will see if I can seek you three out later."

He parted. So was Lucas Foster and as for me, I was not sure whether I could say the same of him. I turned to greet his sister.

Lisa, unlike her brother and cousin, was dark. Black almond-shaped pools in place of eyes and hair a raven hue. A cheery face, with cheeks that glowed with health. She must have been older than she appeared. When she smiled a row of pearls peaked out, and her lips bended in a soft crescent. I had kissed her hand before I knew what I was doing.

"Well, he has manners, Alice." She said. "It is nice to meet you at last Mr. Rochester."

"It is nice to meet you as well, Ms. Foster."

"When I heard there was a young man seeking out cousin Alice, I thought the least t o be done was for her to look appropriate." Lisa Foster placed herself on the nearby sofa, patting the space next to her. Her cousin stood behind her.

As time went on, Ms. Lisa Foster began to remind me of a widow I met once. A kind of memory from your early youth and you can't recall anything but the moment itself; how you got there and why are unknown to you.

In my case it was a visit to this widow, I had been with Mama when we saw her, dressed in mourning (it may have been her husband's funeral) and I remember her voice. A sad and forlorn voice that seemed to banish what it wished to her miserable realm. Tired sounding, and tearful.

Though Ms. Lisa was certainly not mourning, as far as I can tell, but she seemed to have the same pessimism in her tone that the widow had. She seemed just as forlorn, and her youth (for later Alice did confirm she is in fact she is our age) made it all the more strange. But to be fair she was not unpleasant, a bit abrupt in her questioning and had a slightly vexing habit of addressing one (Alice in particular I noticed) in a patronizing fashion.

Though, my friend seemed to return the countenance in like, a bit more masterly perhaps, but never becoming harsh to her.

This seemed to have intensified as time went on, and I chalked it up to the usual sibling-like feelings cousins sometimes hold for one another. And I would have continued thinking so, if not for something that threw me.

We had walked along the grounds, Lisa and Alice had been on my right, arm in arm, and Lisa was telling me an anecdote from Alice's first week in London. It had actually concerned the cousin, Maisie, that had accompanied Alice. Lisa had been in the middle of her tale, when she suddenly grew quiet and I heard a small gasp.

I turned, as she was apologizing and explaining she lost her train of thought, but my attention was drawn to her pale little hand. It was clutching the fabric of her left white sleeve, and I saw a small stain of red, peeking on the edge of her palm.

I didn't call attention to it, and upon these reflections I wish I had. For I noticed Alice had faint traces of red on her fingernails.

They carried on, as they had, and I was not sure what to do if anything. The rest of my time there was calm, and Lisa kept her injured palm to her sleeve. Removing it once revealed a little circle of blood, and a small tear on her skin.

* * *

"She has a habit of becoming worried." Alice said, as she walked with me out the gate. Miss Lisa Foster had already departed.

"Do you plan to return tomorrow?" She asked looking at me hopefully. "I should be glad for it. Cousin Lucas has a friend coming this way tomorrow, and I would be obliged if I had a friend of my own with me."

"I will." So had been my automatic response, and as a result I said it before I knew I had.

She smiled, and we had reached the clearing.

"Since you now have the acquaintance of two Ms. Fosters," She said turning to leave, "why don't you call me Alice from now on?"

She then left me. I couldn't make sense of it. Her or her cousins to some extent. I could see the whole picture of things was alluding me. Just as well I was unsure what that picture was and a more disturbing one had been of Ms. Alice. Pinching Lisa, like how one would pinch a child or kick a dog when displeased with it.

My only experience with such like cruelty, had been by schoolmates, schoolmasters, and those of the neighboring town by Kempton. Worse things had drawn blood, and much more of it.

But my mysterious friend had never given reason (not even in her spirited run) to seem anything but kind.

I walked home deciding to journey round to the veranda. I saw Mama had placed herself there, Branwell played by himself someway off. She heard me approach, and I sat next to her.

"How was your outing?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the child playing.

"It was well..." I answered. "Mama?"

She looked at me. I hesitated, "The family, that lives in that old place a little way from here? We've never really made any contact with them, why?"

"As far as I know, they've usually only taken residence there a few weeks at a time. Why do you ask?"

I hesitated again, Mama's voice was as calm as it had always been, but like the day before it filled me with anxiety. I looked over to Branwell, who was still in a world of his own, playing with what I assumed was a little Calvary.

"Have you met them?" Mama asked. Looking at me pointedly, I felt my face warm and nodded, slowly. She didn't ask how long ago. She was quiet, perhaps expecting me to lay all down in front of her, but I was silent as well.

Finally she said, "I've heard they have brought red-haired niece with them."

'The same who had...' I thought. Out loud I spoke gently, "Yes. They have."

"And you've spoken with her?" Was She choosing her words carefully, or was I imaging as much? Her resolute, expecting way made me feel many years younger. Alice's words from before 'You speak as though we are doing something so bad!' ran past my brain, and that moment, it was as though we were.

I nodded again. "She seems a decent type of character." When Mama didn't respond I added, "So far, that is. So far."

"Eddie." She turned towards me completely. "You've obtained a bad habit, of not telling your Mother things. I don't mean about her, but surely you could have told me where you were going. And that's all I wanted to know."

"Why did you not ask me?"

"I did not think it would be necessary." She replied, "And I could conclude as much already, you started leaving into the woods directly after the incident."

I could see no contempt, and I heard no anger in her tone. She matched my stare and continued, "And I saw that you wanted to tell me. Your eyes, you should be mindful of those organs."

"Are you upset with me?"

"No, not really. I might have done the same, when I was your age." Mama mused with a small smile. "Your Papa likes to say you and I have a calmness about ourselves. But I think he sees it as my nunnette upbringing, compared to his indulgent one. When I was as old as you I had a certain restlessness. It is the reason I advertised my services as a governess. "

"It's also what threw you into Papa's path."

She laughed and said 'threw' was a very good word for it. "But even then I had a curious hunger for something, I knew not what. I was curious about where I was, and those around me, and it wouldn't be quite right to condemn you for the same." Mama looked back at Branwell, who was now laying flat on his back, staring at the sky.

"Though I think your still waters are naturally your own." She said absently.

"Does Papa know ?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Is he angry?"

"I don't think so, but it might be wise for you to ask him yourself." She replied. "What is her name?"

"Alice." Was my quick response, and it was directly after I uttered it that I realised it was only her Christian name I had said, and Mother had also caught it. Why had I omitted her surname?

"Does, this Alice have another name?" Mama asked, a small smile on her lips.

"Foster. Alice Foster." I redeemed.

"Well, as long as Ms. Foster does not tempt you to follow her example, I grant my consent." Mama then rose and leaned to kiss me. I was glad of her indulgence (if one could call it that) but I was still taken by surprise.

"Are you...happy with it?" That was not the correct term, but it was the only one I could form, though even I was not sure what was meant by it. She said she consented, but was she content with her decision? Would she rather I sever the contact?

If this was so, then it was hidden. Mama answered, after recovering from her own confusion of my sentence, "As I said before, I had a restless curiosity when I was eighteen...and because of it I met my husband."

She left and went inside. A weight lifted off my back, but in the same instance, an unpleasant feeling replaced the pressure. Had I wanted them to forbid me from Almore? I certainly did not expect Mama to be permissive, but perhaps that wasn't fair to her.

There was some other forbidding that kept returning, and I spent the rest of that day trying to figure it. The only one of the Fosters that filled me with an unpleasant notion was Lucas, what had he been doing? How long had he watched me? And more importantly why?

I replayed last night several times to myself, searching and wracking my brain for anything useful to pull. Something to shine a light upon the dark mystery, something I noticed about him, or his sister. But nothing I recalled seemed useful. And of course I was not closer to the original answer I wished to obtain.

Perhaps it was useless to continue seeking answers for that, with the other mysteries that attacked my mind. All the questions, and none of the answers, but I would find them, all the pieces until the entire picture was clear. Of that I was determined.

But, then the image, of Alice's lightly red colored fingernails came to mind. Perhaps Mr. Foster was not the only one I was to be cautious of. I may have not known Alice for so long, but it seemed unlikely she should have a change of face so suddenly.

Why then had she done such a thing? Had Ms. Lisa Foster provoked her? No recollection of such came to mind, nothing she could have said. And Ms. Lisa had not done more than try to hide the cut.

I rose, suddenly anxious, and walked about the room. By now the other inhabitants of Ferndean had long since retired, and myself unable to rest. I gravitated to the window. Thoughts of what I had seen and what was yet to be found, and wondering if perhaps Alice's faults had been clear to all else, and I had ingored them.

These thoughts were interrupted, and replaced with a sharp chill. Below the window, standing at the edge of the grounds I saw a figure. The face twisted into such a glare, and still I recognized it as the one belonging to Lucas Foster. It was him! I could not mistake that face. Though he had earlier conveyed such a light and casual cheerfulness, now was not showing anything but contempt.

Dressing as much as I believed I needed to, and lighting a candle, I made my way down, leaving by the servant's door and keeping to the shadows, I walked along the house.

But as I soon reached the lawn, and I found I was alone. Whatever bravado had possessed me then, turned me toward the wood and there I went.

It was quiet, as it had been the night before, and I found myself to be very much alone. There were no owls or other nocturnal creatures to keep me company. It was all very still. And from somewhere out of the dark shadows, out of my sight, a voice growled at me.

"You should be in bed."

And there he was, standing tall, and emerging to my sight, his lamp held close.

"As should you. What do you mean by coming here?"

"To get a look of Frendean." He said calmly.

"And you can not do this in the daytime?"

"No." He growled. "In any event I did not think you would be up and about. And what do you mean by running into the dark woods at such an hour, after what could have been the devil himself?" Foster came toward me and prodded at my jacket. "See here? You don't even have a means to defend yourself! Are you usually so reckless?"

"Was it you stalking me the night before?" I asked, not caring for politeness, or to amswer to his condescending tone. I had my own inquiries.

"No." He said plainly. Offering no more of an explanation, I was not sure to believe him. But he showed no signs of falsehood. I asked who had.

"Cousin Alice."

Alice? But she had woken me only a few hours later.

"Why?"

"You'll have to ask her." He said and then went on his way, without another word. I was left to find my way home in the dark, and had fitful dreams, eventually dressing completely and waiting for the sun. My thoughts filled with the encounter, and the disturbing answers I have received.

* * *

Foster was there when I set off, his demeanour changed. He seemed as friendly and conversational as he had been when I first met him.

"Is your name Rochester or Polly?" He asked puckishly, "You paled when you caught sight of me!"

"Really my name is Edward." I replied, passing him.

"Well, then Edward, they commissioned me to fetch you-"

"You haven't known me well or long enough to call me Edward." I told him. "And don't think I gave you any sort of permission."

"Well then Rochester...I suppose you do deserve an explanation." He said, catching up to me.

"Cousin Alice was the one who had come upon you that night. Since her arrival to England I've discovered she has queer spells, prefers to walk alone at night. It was dangerous, Mother thought, in London. But here she and my Father are permissive. I do not know why she 'stalked' you, using your own words, but she did come back and recite to me the speech you made."

I had no response.

"Alice has a bit of an odd make up. Far from mad but a bit..."

"Obscure?"

"As I said, queer spells, and strange fancies. When she breaks your heart try not to let it be too broken. If you can."

"Why do you seem to think she has it?" I asked. Offended he had decided he had the authority to make such a remark. How impertinent.

"Doesn't she?" He asked.

"I shouldn't think so." I replied, asking, "Is that why you decided to sneak along Frendean? Where my Mother or young brother could have seen you?"

"My apologies there. I was being truthful in my explanation, but I admit, it was unwise."

We said no more,and walked in silence. I suppose I had some of the answers I wanted, disturbing though I found them. It was not till we came to Almore's gate that I remembered Alice had said her Cousin had a friend calling upon them today, but there was no third-party waiting for him. No sign of a visitor, but I did not mention it.

"I believe Dear Alice is somewhere in the garden. You better find her before the rabbit."* He said, "I have my company to tend to for now, but if I know him he'll wish to find you both, eventually."

He put his hand out, trying to call a truce and I grasped it, willingly. "There," He said "we are friends once more?"

"Once more." I agreed, though we were not even that to begin with.

"And you say she does not sway your soul? She does not possess your being?"

"No."

"Never had then? Not even when you saw her, bare as her day of birth?" He asked, and I was shocked. He had known? He knew I had seen her?

The vainglorious smirk grew at my silence, and he disappeared into the manor. Leaving me was to find Alice.

* * *

_*** Alice in Wonderland was published, as far as I could find, in 1865. I couldn't resist the reference.**_

_**Like I said, seven should be up soon (sooner than a month)!Many thanks for reading.**_


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